


The Tale of Miss Ariadne Holmes

by Winged_Writer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1448185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winged_Writer/pseuds/Winged_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock visits a 9 year old girl in an Asylum with incredible abilities. He has some important news for her...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tale of Miss Ariadne Holmes

In the Herbert Spencer Asylum, there were countless rooms filled with noisy occupants. But there was a single door that no sound came from. The room belonged to a girl that looked to be 9. Her body was small and thin, and she had bright blue eyes that stared at the door from her almost constant position next to the far wall. Behind the bright eyes, was a brilliant mind that remembered very bit of information she learned. She never knew when even the smallest detail would be important.

\---

The man walked up to the front desk. His tall figure was framed in the moonlight streaming through the doorway.

"I need to see the patient in room 413," he growled in his cool, deep voice. The security guard led him up the stairs and into the room.

"Hello," the tall man whispered. The girl's head lifted slightly, still staring at the wall. Then she whipped her head around and stared at him, taking in his entire form.

"What is the insignia on my coat button?" he asked, quickly facing away from her, giving her only a second to notice it. Her head lifted, confused for a moment before answering.  
"Well?" he asked, "You're supposed to be the best there is."

"A family crest. A shield with a golden stallion," she answered quietly, watching him with curiosity.

"Excellent," he said, whipping off his black wool coat and blue scarf. The girl couldn't help but notice his curly black hair gleaming in the moonlight, his blue eyes just as piercing as hers.

"Who are you?"she asked, tilting her head slightly as her gaze swept over his body.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes," he crooned, "and you, apparently, are my biological child."

"The Great Detective," she mused, bringing her knees up to her chest.

"Yes," he whispered, "amusingly enough, I am considered great."

"Are you not?"she asked softly.

"I am not great. I am resourceful, enigmatic, and a high-functioning sociopath. As are you, my daughter. You were put in here for high level sociopathy, correct?"

She shrugged. "Technically."

"Yes. I am here to tell you that you can be free of this place, as you are my child. I have every right to claim you, and the people here know me. I was almost put in here once or twice."

"I wouldn't be surprised..."she mused, rubbing her arms,"Does anyone else know?"

"Your mother. It's dangerous, being the brother of Mycroft Holmes and having a child. Your life had been threatened. We had to let you go for a few years."

"I never knew..." she mumbled, frowning,"I don't like not knowing..."

"Anyway, when I noticed that a girl with black hair, blue eyes, and an incredible knack for observation and memory was inducted into an asylum for sociopathy, it struck me as... somehow like me."

"Never ignore a coincidence," she said, looking up at him.

"Your uncle says that a lot," he said, with his trademark wink and smile. Sherlock's smile slowly faded as he looked at his child's face, taking in every detail. High, prominent cheekbones. Long, black hair that billowed down to her tiny ribcage in a million curls. Improbably pale skin even though her window had no curtains. He couldn't comprehend how much she looked like him, and not her mother. "I didn't even learn your name," he mused aloud.

"Well, doesn't that make you the  _greatest parent in the world_ ," she quipped, full of the Holmes family sarcasm, "forgetting your daughter's name. But it's Claire. When I was moved to this place from an orphanage, I overheard them calling me Claire, so I just use that now. Thanks a lot for not giving me a proper name."

"I'll do that right now," Sherlock replied. "Your name is Ariadne Konan Holmes, and your new residence shall be 221B Baker Street in London."

"Alright. I haven't got anything, to take with me, so can we leave now?" she asked, with a childish look on her face.

"Absolutely. The game is on, Ariadne."

**Author's Note:**

> Any guesses as to who the mother is? (Hint: It's in the name…)


End file.
